


seven to seven

by tsunderestorm



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: M/M, Sexting, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Reno and Rude can have a little mid-morning quickie, as a treat.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	seven to seven

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written FFVII fic in probably about seven years. Ha ha. Alma gave me the (so eloquent) prompt of _"the two of them having what is more of less phone sex while on separate details for work, then meeting up in some Midgar alleyway and raw dogging it_ ".
> 
> I ended up writing Reno as afab trans, and it's purely bc the first Rude/Reno fic I read after coming back to the VII fandom after years was by [Roo (Ooodles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oodles/pseuds/Oodles) who has excellent fics in which Reno is trans, so... that just kind of cemented the headcanon in my mind! Some afab terms used for Reno, read with caution.

Reno scans over the text he’s typed out because, as everyone knows, dirty texts are serious business. Hell, he spends more time on his midday sexts to Rude more than he does his emails to Tseng. The director is lucky if he gets more than a few key-smashed words, but Rude gets punctuation, an emoji here and there, the real fuckin’ deal. Does Reno overuse the little droplet emoji? Yeah, and what about it? 

_Reno ⚡️ 11:32 a.m.: ruuuuuude I’m horny_

_daddy 🕶👅 11:34 a.m.: I know, baby_

_Reno ⚡️11:35 a.m.: I’m done with my shit for now… want you._

He shifts in his seat, glancing out the window to see the billboards of Sector 8 passing by as the car cruises surveillance-slow through the backstreets. His fingers move rapid fire over his on-screen keyboard to type out another message as soon as he hears the little sound that tells him the previous one went through. Fuck not double-texting, he’ll triple, quadruple, quintuple text if it gets his point across. It’s a charm point. 

_Reno ⚡️ 11:38 a.m: i want you bad. don’t get me wrong, the wake-up head is AMAZING, don’t stop doin what ur doin, but I want all of u_

_Reno ⚡️ 11:39 a.m.: you ever been so horny that you just feel empty?_

_Reno ⚡️ 11:40 a.m.: bc that’s how you make me feel, like there’s this big emptiness inside of me that only you can fill up. like i’ll fuckin die if i don’t get myself full of you_

_daddy 🕶👅 11:42 a.m.: Enough of that. I can’t have my boy dying on my watch_

_Reno ⚡️11:43 a.m.: guess you know what you gotta do then 👉🏻👌🏻 🍆🍑_

_Reno ⚡️ 11:44 a.m.: no but. seriously._

Rude swipes away the notification for the next message before the car can read it to him, not in any hurry to hear that robotic voice reading out every word of what Reno wants to do to him. It turns out to be for the best, because Reno calls him not thirty seconds later. 

Reno coos, “ _Ruuude_ , baby,” and the sound seems bigger than just the speakers, coalescing through the sound system. He reaches to the touch screen and taps the button to remove Reno’s near-moans from the Bluetooth speakers, into only his earpiece. He’s alone today, but still… you know. Maybe he just wants to be able to hear every hitch in his breath, each little “ _ah_ ” and every “ _yeah_ ” like a shot of sweet, sweet adrenaline straight to his brain. Maybe the company car is bugged, and it’s in the interest of discretion that he hides the fact that Reno is very much leading into phone sex with him right this instant. Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe it’s jealousy, and he doesn’t want to share Reno’s love sounds with anyone or anything, even with the empty confines of the car. 

“So… whatcha wearin’, partner?” Reno drawls, dragging out the endearment, wrapping his tongue around the syllables like he’s savoring Rude’s cock. It’s cheap bait, easy bait, but Rude’s got no problem taking it. He nibbles at it like he’d kissed up and down Reno’s thighs, chases it like he’s starving because at the end of that shiny, dangling hook is the best treasure he’s ever held. 

“Pants, shirt, suit jacket,” Rude answers, simple enough. “Standard uniform.”

After a second, he adds, “And the memory of your mouth on me from this morning. I’m wearing that, too.”

Rude has been with Reno long enough to know what _gets him_. What turns him on, what makes him tick, what makes his heart flutter and what gets him hot between the legs. Reno moans out, “oh _, good_ ,” as his voice pitches higher than normal, mouth slowing from a mile a minute to quiet pants and Rude congratulates himself on a job well done. It’s not that he doesn’t love every word that comes out of Reno’s mouth (quite the opposite, in fact) it’s just that he’s pretty damn proud of knowing how to push his partner’s _off_ buttons even with only his voice.

 _Especially_ with only his voice, even.

“What are you doing?” Rude asks, clearing his throat past the words. He knows Reno didn’t drive his own car today, knows he either sweet-talked or bullied some security grunts into chauffeuring him around. He also knows Reno well enough to know that, at this point in the day, with him in _this_ kind of mood, the backseat is all his: privacy partition up and every skinny inch of his body sprawled languidly over the car’s leather interior.

His “I’m glad you asked, partner,” is dripping with self-satisfaction. Rude knows something else is dripping, too.

“Are you planning to tell me?” Rude teases, just enough to spur him on. 

Reno treats him to a moan, then pants, “What do you think, babe? Shit, my hand’s been in my pants since you picked up the phone.” 

That technically isn’t a lie! It’s just a half-truth. In reality, Reno’s hand has been in his pants since Rude responded to his text, since his eyes bypassed pretty much every other word on the screen in favor of honing in on _my boy_ because damn, does he love when Rude calls him that. He’s been on edge all day, keyed-up in the worst kind of way, unable to forget the echoes of Rude’s fingers at his hole, the scratchy burn of his goatee against his thighs, the taste of his cock on his tongue.

“And your other?” Rude knows that Reno isn’t stupid enough to put him on speaker even in the semi- private confines of his car, but he’s creative, he’ll have two hands working at himself or he’ll have nothing, _thank you_. Rude pictures him cradling the phone in the crook of his neck, breath fogging the touch screen as he twists to get a better angle at himself. He pictures him in positions only Reno could work himself into in the back of a car: upside down in the seat, legs spread and feet shoved in the back dash or slouched down and spread-eagled, grinding up against his hand. His mouth feels dry. “What’s that one doing?”

“Oh-ho… you’re _good_ , Rude. That one’s all over me too.”

Rude offers a noncommittal grunt that he knows Reno won’t be satisfied with, so the whine he gets in response is unsurprising. Stopped at a brief security checkpoint, Rude closes his eyes behind their designer lenses, imagines again the picture Reno’s painted himself into: pants undone, hands on his pretty pink nipples growing puffier and more sensitive by the second, head lolled back and tongue gliding over his lower lip while his fingers work his dick.

Rude clears his throat. Offering a nod to the traffic guard who waves him through after seeing the Shinra emblem on the car, he says, “I wish I was.” Then, without revealing what he’s doing, he takes the off-ramp on the expressway not back to Sector 0 and the Company’s headquarters, but instead to Sector 8, where he knows Reno is.

Reno jumps on the admission like a cat with his favorite toy, digs his claws into the suggestion and decides he’s tired of the bullshit. No one has _ever_ accused Reno of being a patient guy. 

“Why don’t you come on over here,” he suggests, then, “and get me full of you _?_ The offer’s on the table, partner.”

The offer’s always on the table for Rude, but that’s beside the point. God, Reno’s so damn _clingy_ now, can’t even make it through a single work day without sneaking away for a quickie with him. It’s not like he can be blamed, when Rude’s so _hot_ and so good in bed and so kind and gentle on top of it, but he can count on one hand how many boyfriends he’s acted _this_ kind of stupid for in the past. Actually, he can do that with just one finger, and he’d like to volunteer the one he’s currently teasing at his hole with for the task. It’s only ever been for Rude.

Rude chokes on his own words and stutters out something Reno doesn’t quite catch. All he hears is that deep, sexy voice, a smooth rumble that lodges itself _right_ between his legs. Does Reno know what he’s hot as shit and can use it to his advantage? Yes. Does he know that Rude is totally whipped and easy to get? Also yes. Does he feel bad about it when he’s this horny? Uh, that’s a resounding _no._

Rude’s heart flutters like an out-of-control butterfly at the thought of seeing Reno sooner than the end of the work day. On top of that, his dick (half-hard, very much interested) loves the idea of a quickie in between assignments. Rude’s brain, however, begins an impassioned lecture on the wiseness of said proposed nooner. They war with each other - heart, dick, brain - and just when dick and heart are about to land a tag-team knockout on his brain, he takes a stab at _better judgment_. “We should focus on-“

“ _Rude_ ,” Reno says, perfectly timed and in that bratty, bossy way that’s so endearing, the way that makes Rude sure he’d stamp his foot if he wasn’t sprawled out languidly in the back of his car, hand down his pants with his fingers trailing from belly, to chest, to the perfect line of his throat, teasing every inch of skin Rude has long-since memorized to a pretty flush. “Don’t give me that bullshit when we both know you wanna.”

Rude does. He’s just… well, someone has to try and be the responsible one. Someone has to finish his mission and write his report and get back to headquarters in time to get the Director’s debrief after the board meeting, and - 

“Get your ass over here _now_ ,” Reno pants, voice reedy and clipped. Rude knows with absolute certainty that better judgment just took a monumental hit. Another loss on the scoreboard he isn’t really keeping. The hesitation was only a formality, anyways, an attempt at professionalism he doesn’t even want to have. Not when the alternative is Reno. 

Rude only says one thing: “Where,” as he rests his hand on his thigh, knuckles just shy of nudging against his dick. Reno moans out the name of two streets, an intersection with back alleys that are fairly seedy by above-plate standards, but less traveled. It’s perfect. 

Reno’s laugh is self-satisfied, voice saccharine with the sugar-sweet celebration of his small victory. He offers, “See you there, Rude,” before his phone beeps out the notification that the call has ended.

Rude is a man of action. When Reno is stumbling out of the car with his belt unbuckled and pants undone to shove them down his skinny thighs, Rude is ready for him. He’s secured the alley, left his jacket in the car, has his sleeves cuffed to the elbow because he knows how Reno likes his arms, loves to trail his fingers from wrist to elbow and dig his nails in until Rude has dozens of blunt half-moons in his skin. He has his jacket unbuttoned but hasn’t undone his belt - Reno likes to do that part, likes to hear the heavy sound of the metal and leather as he unbuckles it to get at what he wants. 

Reno leaves a shoe in the car in his haste, and between the pants situation and one foot clad in only a sock, he ends up half-hopping into the mouth of the alley. He barely remembers to bark out a hasty excuse to the Public Security grunts to leave them be, a syrupy, fake-sweet drawl of “Hey,guys,” as his fingers trail down Rude’s chest and stomach, coming to rest at the waistband of his pants. His eyes flick up to meet Rude’s before he tosses a glance over his shoulder at the two Public Security officers standing at attention to either side of the car’s front seat. 

“This is a _very_ classified conversation, so just give us a sec, ‘kay?” Reno offers when they move to follow, tossing his hair and offering Rude a wink that he _knows_ the security guys all see.

(Rude makes a mental note to ask the Director how he might obtain bonuses for them. It is quickly forgotten when Reno’s hand moves swiftly south, palm flattening against his cock through his pants.)

Reno has his pants hanging off one leg by the time he’s jumping up around Rude’s hips. He’s not sure if Reno threw his underwear somewhere or if he conveniently didn’t wear any today, but he’s up around his waist and he can feel how bad he wants him so he stops wondering. Reno has his suit jacket full-unbuttoned and his useless-anyways shirt tossed _somewhere_ and his bare chest in Rude’s face and oh _hell_ , does he have suckable nipples.

Rude bites at them before Reno’s dragging his face up and into a crushing kiss. Normally, yeah, he’d be content to let Rude suck on his tits as long as he wanted but they only have so much time and he’s gonna be _loud_ when his man gets inside and they’ll need something to muffle the sound. Shit, at this point he feels like he’s gonna howl like an alley cat when Rude finally fills the cavernous ache that’s lodged itself between his legs the same way Rude wedged himself into his heart when Reno opened up to let him in. 

“Stretched it for ya, partner,” Reno mumbles against Rude’s jaw as Rude’s adjusting his slight weight in his grip, and true to his word, his hole is slack and wet when Rude’s fingers press against it, puffy and plush and Renomoans out a generous _“fuck_ ” when a leather-clad finger slips into him. Rude will have to change those gloves later. 

“Lewd,” Rude scolds, and Reno, damn him, just _winks_ , sticks out his tongue and gives Rude a good glimpse of the barbell through the middle of it. “Doing that in a company car.”

“On company time too, partner,” Reno laughs, with an exaggerated shimmy of his hips. “Same way we’re on company time now, about to fuck behind some bougie shopping strip... What is this, a jewelry store? You must think I’m a real classy bitch!”

Rude _hmms_ in response. Reno babbles when he’s horny, a stream of consciousness that stops for no one but his shuddering orgasms. Once, he’d sat on Rude’s face while extolling the benefits of anime dubs versus subs, and Rude had let him, licking and sucking until Reno’s cum splattered his face soon after he decided dubbed episodes were easier because if he doesn’t have to read subtitles, he can read the pattern of smile lines on Rude’s face instead. Or, apparently, sit on it. 

Oh, and there had been the time Rude had been giving it to him from behind and his phone had pinged an update notification from some cryptid conspiracy site tracking something or other in the slums, and Reno had shouted in half surprise, half bliss as he came on Rude’s cock scrolling through blurry pictures of… _something._ Some kind of creature that undoubtedly shouldn’t exist, and Rude still isn’t sure what to think about that time. That’s just his baby.

Back to (risky) business. Yes, this _is_ risky; there are a million and one reasons they shouldn’t be doing this ranging from legality to morality, but Reno’s bare hand is curled around his dick and his thumb is rubbing over one of the barbells laddered up the underside and he’s looking up at him with those eyes that get him every time. Reno can all at once dull the roar of the world to a quiet murmur and light up Rude’s life with a symphony of color and sound, trading the mundane for the extraordinary. 

Reno pouts. “You’re gonna fuck me, aintcha?” and Rude could deny it, could try and say no, he isn’t, even when his hands and more importantly his dick are saying _yes, he is_ , but he doesn’t bother. The sooner they can fuck this out, this _tension_ , the sooner they can get back to work, the sooner they can get through the rest of their surveillance details today without any more sporadic bouts of phone (or alley) sex. 

“Yeah, pussycat,” Rude rumbles, and the sentence, those two simple words, that fucking pet name takes Reno apart. He writhes under Rude’s hands, his fucking amazing, skilled, perfect hands, squirming so he can rub himself down against Rude’s dick. The front of Rude’s pants is going to be a wreck and Reno can’t be assed to care. Not when Rude has like, three spare suits accessible at any given time. Not when he can feel the tip of Rude’s dick nudging against him, slipping inside because he’s so sloppy and open already.

The lube Reno produces from somewhere is helpful, but it’s an easy slide anyway. Reno’s been at himself all morning, and he’s always easy and wet when it comes to Rude. Still, he sinks inside sooner than he should, and with no warning, just drops Reno’s weight enough to feel the first stretch of him around his cock, Reno’s tight body opening up and pulling him in. 

It’s fine, for a quickie like this they both like it when it’s just this side of comfortable, the same way that sometimes Reno likes Rude’s so-skilled hands around his throat and Rude likes just a hint of Reno’s teeth with his head. Reno sucks in a breath when the first of the barbells lined up Rude’s cock a snag on the slick edges of him.

Rude puts his fingers to Reno’s mouth and well-trained, Reno bites a fingertip, gives some resistance so Rude can pull his hand out of the snug leather before he gets his fingers down on Reno’s clit. Reno might like it with Rude’s gloves on sometimes, but this calls for skin to skin. Baby deserves the best, and Rude’s going to do right by him.

Rude sets a rhythm and Reno falls in line, lets him call the shots and take the lead. _Partner’s got it_ , he always says; lets himself be putty in Rude’s hands. Reno links his arms around Rude’s neck, fingers laced at his nape as his head lolls back, panting as Rude pumps up into him. The slight burn as he’s stretched is just the way he likes it, Rude’s cock nudging deeper inside as he rolls his hips and _hell_ , partner’s got it, for sure. Rude’s fingers on his clit tease him just right, keep him on a nice, steady stream of pleasure rather than pushing him over too soon. He claps a hand over Reno’s mouth when it gets too good, lets him bite down on his knuckles and lick each moan and every attempt at a word up the lines of his fingers.

(Leave it to Rude, to take his time and drag it out even when it’s just a middle-of-the-day quickie. Leave it to Rude to make them both feel amazing even when they don’t _really_ have the time.

“ _Reno_ ,” is all Rude has to say, all that it takes to get Reno’s mile-a-minute mouth to truly slow down, to turn his silver tongue into a babbling mess as he comes with a fluttery jerk, hips whipping to grind against the meat of Rude’s hand as his hole clenches around his cock. The clutch of him is like a vice when he comes, dragging an overpowering orgasm out of him, too. Reno babbles something when he feels Rude’s dick spasm inside of him, some unintelligible mumble of words that undoubtedly includes such selections as _partner_ and _fuck_ that Rude can’t decipher over the blood rushing in his own ears.

When Reno’s eyes can focus again, when he’s less dick-drunk and more just… pleasantly buzzed on it, he laughs. It’s a sheepish little _heh heh,_ and he straightens Rude’s tie as he does it.

Rude, quickly (and sadly) comes back to his senses. “We should - uh, what I mean to say is… work -“

Reno lets his head loll back and rolls his eyes in abject displeasure. “Geez, Rude… c’mon, can we hold off the post-nut clarity, just for a second? Let me just… man, let me enjoy you.”

“But, Tseng, and the Vice President. -“ Rude persists, even though it makes his face heat to hear Reno make the simple request to just _enjoy him_. 

Reno laughs again, a beautiful sound, and tips his head back again to expose his bare neck and heaving chest. He looks like a romance novel cover in Rude’s arms… if romance novel protagonists were skinny punk twinks. So, in Rude’s eyes? Perfect. 

“Don’t talk to me about work when your dick isn’t even soft inside me… have a little _respect,_ partner! Come _on!”_ He twines his hands around Rude’s shoulders, fingers working under the fitted collar of his jacket and shirt to run over skin. “Proud of you, Rude… you never would’ve done this shit when we first started. Must be my influence.” 

“Yeah, your _bad_ influence.”

Reno shifts in Rude’s arms, offers him a wink and an exaggerated air kiss as Rude holds his skinny thighs to balance him, sets him down on the ground one-footed like some lanky flamingo of a man. He bends to grab his pants, stepping back into the discarded leg of them and tugging them back into place. “Listen, partner… I’m _really_ not thinkin’ you mind so much.”


End file.
